A State of High Emotions
by Lady Verity
Summary: I love you, you ninny, though it breaks my heart" A fluffy lil' Sweenett oneshot. My very first fic. Rating changed. You know you want to, so please read and review!


It had been a long day at the pie shop, but although Mrs. Lovett was exhausted she couldn't get to sleep. It was raining outside, calm and steady, and her heart was breaking.

Not that she didn't feel like this nearly every night. When she was younger, (and sometimes still, although she wouldn't admit it) she had been a great fan of romantic novels, but what they never mentioned was that it hurt to be in love. It hurt terribly. Not always, of course, but on nights like this it was more painful than she could say.

She was in love with her upstairs neighbor and, ahem, "business partner," Sweeney Todd. In love with his dark eyes, and his inner torment. In love with how, when he was in the pie shop and she was serving some of London's painted and perfumed old ladies, chattering away about some neighborhood "scandal" that wasn't the least bit scandalous, he would catch her eyes in a sympathetic glance, and they'd both smile. Or how the other day, when that man had tried to paw at her pretty agressively before going upstairs for a shave, he had shot her a quick wink that sent shivers up her spine and that said "he won't bother you any more." She loved moments like that.

Thinking about it only made things worse. It had gotten worse since Lucy died. She had gone into one of her frenzies, and hit her head on a wall. Hard. Mrs. Lovett had taken her body to the place where beggars were buried. She'd even said a little prayer, although she usually wasn't one for that sort of thing, and even though by the end she wasn't really sure she was still talking about Lucy (". . . and please have mercy on this poor mad girl, who tries her hardest but just got lost . . ."). Poor thing. None of it was her fault, especially not all that with the judge. And she couldn't have helped being a ninny when she was sane, poor thing.

Usually Mrs. Lovett could stop herself from thinking like this, from getting upset, but not tonight. She started crying, just a little at first, but soon enough she was sobbing like there was no tomorrow.

Upstairs, Sweeney Todd was pacing, unable to sleep as per usual, when he heard the noise. A woman crying. It must be . . . her. Though he'd never say it, he almost . . . cared about her. She made him smile, now and again, which was more than he'd done in fifteen years. To be quite honest, the reason he always called her by her last name wasn't out of formality so much as because he thought her first name, Nellie, didn't suit her at all. To him, Nellie was a child, or someone dull and pink and simple, and Mrs. Lovett was none of these things. But then, Nellie was a nickname wasn't it? For Danielle. Danielle. That was much better, he reflected.

He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, only that the sound was one of the most disturbing things he'd ever heard, as he went to her room to investigate. When he got there, he was even more shaken. He'd never seen someone in such a pure state of sadness. No anger or rage or even fear, just . . . tears.

He hesitated for a few minutes before asking, "Mrs., er, Danielle, I heard you, uh, crying from upstairs, and the noise was very distracting." He paused a moment and then added, "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Lovett was so shocked to see him there, let alone hear him use her first name, that she stopped crying. Then she spoke:

"Well Mr. T, you know 'ow you're so consumed by your revenge and all? Well it's a bit like that, and I think it might hurt as much or even more than revenge, 'cos I've been full of anger before, and inspiration too, and I'd gladly take either of those over this."

"What is it?" he asked, quite concerned for some reason. What could be so painful, to make her cry like that?

"Love, Mr. T. Just love."

"You're in love?" he asked sharply. "With who?" The idea that she had some whole other world, another life, outside the two of them and the pie shop was quite . . . disturbing.

"'With who?'" she shouted, half-laughing. "'With who?' With you, you ninny! Why else would I cook all your meals and never once complain? Why do I clean the blood off your shirts, and help you with the pies and the bodies and all? Why do I light up whenever you come into the shop? Why, if not because I love you?" she paused for a moment to catch her breath. "And now I get worked up into this high emotional state what's most unladylike and make a right fool of myself."

For once, Sweeney Todd was utterly speechless. Then, acting purely on impulse, he reached out and picked her head up, just under her chin. "You really are a bloody wonder," he whispered. And then, 

without stopping to think of anything but how pretty her brown eyes looked swimming with tears, he was kissing her, passionately on the lips.

As his lips moved down to her neck, Mrs. Lovett let out a sigh, not just from the pleasure anyone would expect from kissing the devilishly handsome Mr. Todd, but also from something like . . . joy. Because even if he hadn't said he loved her, even if he couldn't after all he'd been through, he had just said it all.

He paused for a moment and looked up at her. "You know," he said, "_I_ think a state of high emotion suits you wonderfully well."

She was still smiling as he caught her lips in another kiss.


End file.
